I often think about the decisions I make. I wonder about little every day decisions that change our lives. I won't lie, normally I think about these things when something bad happens rather than something good. For example, I got into a fender bender about 6 years ago. I was working as a bank teller and I had stayed 10 minutes late to help clear out a line in the lobby. I left and rear-ended a super sweet elderly couple 20 minutes later. As I sat in my car, I thought...
If I had left on time, would this have happened?
Would I have hit someone else?
Would it have been worse?
Would I be home by now, accident free?
Would these people have been hit by someone else?
Just random questions as to how the universe connects us all.
The other night, I had a similar experience. A series of tiny, unimportant decisions that led me to these universe examining questions.
First decision: I gave the kids a bath, a day late. They were due for a bath Sunday night, but it didn't happen for whatever reason and when I thought of it, I decided to wait until Monday night.
Second decision: The water got cold fast, so I decided to add warmer water which made the water deeper than normal.
Third decision: I didn't pick out towels before the kids got in. I decided that since the linen closet at my in law's house is right next to the tub I could grab them when I needed them.
It's the third decision that sticks in my mind most. The smallest decision. The seemingly most insignificant decision.
I had washed their blond hair and their tiny toes and their chubby bellies. I was ready to take Freddie out, so I turned to the linen closet. My eyes were off of them for maybe 2 seconds while I reached for the towels. When I turned back, Freddie was under water. There was no splash, no crying, no warning.
In that moment, I just grabbed him and pulled him to me. Hugging him close as he screamed in fear. It wasn't until then that the scene started playing out before my eyes: his arms and legs thrashing about, but too short in the deeper water to break the surface and cause a splash; his mouth and eyes wide open crying for me, but my head was turned to the closet; his small body rolling under the rippling water trying to find stability.
It wasn't until I had pulled him out and my heart started to calm that the thoughts of 'what if' started playing through my mind. Those thoughts that belong in places that we don't allow our minds to go. Those thoughts that make us realize how fragile the universe is, how quickly everything can go bad, how one little decision can change our lives forever.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Look Who's Walking
This is the second time that he did this. And it happened about a week and a half ago...but I was in the middle of computer issues. So here is our little man taking his second steps.
Enjoy!
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Ponytails
Her body is limp and warm as I pull off the PJs and dress her in yoga pants and a flowered shirt. Her fever has come way down but it’s still lingering. We should have left for Richmond hours ago, but I couldn’t bear to wake her.
Now fully dressed, she folds herself into my lap and I reach for the comb.
I work the teeth through her soft curls, careful not to pull at the tangles.
As I come to each little knot, I hold the hair close to her head and work gently at removing it.
She doesn’t normally let me do this for so long. Usually she is up and running before I can get the comb through half of her hair. But today is different. I am in a hurry, but she is sick and just wants to be close. She’ll put up with anything to stay in my lap. So I push Richmond off for a bit and just comb her hair.
I pull the bow and small rubber band from the bag and she doesn’t argue. Most mornings I would hear No Mommy! I don’t want anyfing in my hair, but today she holds the bow for me and sits patiently while I comb her unruly locks back into a ponytail.
When she was smaller and mostly bald, I daydreamed about the braids and pig tails and bows and curls that are par for the course when mothering a little girl. Then once her hair started growing, she let me put it up and comb it and play with it until about 6 months ago. Then, like most things in childhood, that ended and she stopped letting me do it. Wanted nuffing in her hair.
So during these times of surrender from her, I just eat it up.
I finish the ponytail and add the bow. On any other day she’d probably yank on it until it was half out and the bow was on the floor. But today, she sits and leans her soft head into my chest and I let her.
Friday, February 4, 2011
WANTED!
Please note that the following suspects are armed and deadly. Do not try and apprehend them on your own. Call for professional help.
Parent Enemy #1: Brinkley - the repeat offender
He seems so cute and harmless. Look at that puppy face, but do not get pulled in. Do not let his cuteness break down your defenses.
This suspect has been known to hold his poo during walks only to leave it on the foyer carpet. He has been known to chew chair legs, stuffed animals and newspaper. His most recent chewing endeavor...the brand new mud room rug.
However, by far his most daring and unfathomable action...peeing on the den carpet. Normally, this would be merely an annoying clean up, but what makes you want to kill him is the timing. Not only had he just come from outside, but the carpets were LITERALLY cleaned within 24 hours of the episode.
Be afraid, be very afraid and do not leave him in a room alone.
Parent Enemy #2: Ainsley - the mind eFer
Also cute, but so, so cunning and intelligent. So intelligent that you'd think there's no way she'd have potty accidents. Oh but you'd be wrong.
Since attending a new school, Ainsley appears to have a potty accident every single day. This is evident in the fact that she is in different pants every night when her mother arrives to pick her up.
When asked Ainsley, why do you have different pants on?
Her answer: Ummm, I just have an accident and pee in my underpants.
Most recently she pulled an unbelievable stunt. While her mother put her baby brother to sleep, Ainsley was tasked with going potty on her own. This is something she's done on her own many times before. Upon returning to the room, her pajama pants were removed and her underpants had been changed.
Ummm, mommy? I just changed my underpants, cause I just peed in my pants.
Ainsley? Why did you pee in your pants?
BEcause mommy, I just peed in my pants.
But why did you pee in your pants.
(Large, heavy sigh) I just peed in my pants so I need new underpants, but it fine mommy. I got underpants out my dresser and I have new princess underpants now.
(Large, heavy sigh from mommy) Okay, well where did you pee? Did it get on the floor.
(Nodding) I pee in the bafroom, I kweened it up.
Show me...
She leads her mother into the bathroom and points to the small area between the toilet and the bathroom matt.
A bit baffled, her mother asks So you came into the bathroom, stood next to the potty and peed on the floor? Just stood right in this spot and peed?
Yes.
Why would you do that?
(Large, heavy sighs) I tell you mommy, because I pee in my underpants!
Please note that this suspect is extremely skilled in the art of mind games, confusion and psychological warfare.
Parent Enemy #3: Gatsby - the Keyser Söze
Just when you thought that your oldest dog, your first baby, was the only being in the household that couldn't disappoint you. You thought that he would never fail you, never disobey you, that he would always do as he was told...or really just that he's always good...BAM, you would be knocked on your rear with reality.
Though he doesn't have as many offenses as the other suspects, his one episode makes up for his lack of regularity.
Imagine entering a dimly lit room, Brinkley asleep on the floor, Ainsley asleep on the bed and Gatsby at full attention.
What's wrong buddy?
He's skittish too, his nerves are not the best. Immediately you are aware that he's probably done something wrong. Then you sit on the bed only to feel a slight wetness on your leg. Turning around, you realize too late that there is a massive puddle of urine in the middle of the comforter, pooled in one of the valley's created by Ainsley's legs.
Yes, that is his MO. Wait until no one's looking and then attack with all your might and glory and hope that they blame Brinkley! Because really, do I have proof it was him? No, I don't.
Please note, there is also some suspicion that many of the chewing instances have been at least aided, if not lead by Gatsby.
Parent Enemy #4: Freddie - the up and comer
He's only 10 months old, so he really can't be blamed for peeing and pooping all over the place. That's what he wants you to think. He wants you to think "Oh he's so cute and innocent. He can do no wrong." But believe me, he has an agenda.
He's currently planning his big heist, just waiting for his moment.
Really though, because of the cloth diapers, poop and pee are just a part of everyday life. Plus, we couldn't leave him out because he's sure to produce just as much chaos in the next couple of years as his older sister and dogs.
So if you wonder why I'm not always on the ball, not quite at the top of my game, not extremely with it...remember that I'm up to my eyeballs in poop and pee and I am totally plotting my revenge.
Parent Enemy #1: Brinkley - the repeat offender
This suspect has been known to hold his poo during walks only to leave it on the foyer carpet. He has been known to chew chair legs, stuffed animals and newspaper. His most recent chewing endeavor...the brand new mud room rug.
However, by far his most daring and unfathomable action...peeing on the den carpet. Normally, this would be merely an annoying clean up, but what makes you want to kill him is the timing. Not only had he just come from outside, but the carpets were LITERALLY cleaned within 24 hours of the episode.
Be afraid, be very afraid and do not leave him in a room alone.
Parent Enemy #2: Ainsley - the mind eFer
Since attending a new school, Ainsley appears to have a potty accident every single day. This is evident in the fact that she is in different pants every night when her mother arrives to pick her up.
When asked Ainsley, why do you have different pants on?
Her answer: Ummm, I just have an accident and pee in my underpants.
Most recently she pulled an unbelievable stunt. While her mother put her baby brother to sleep, Ainsley was tasked with going potty on her own. This is something she's done on her own many times before. Upon returning to the room, her pajama pants were removed and her underpants had been changed.
Ummm, mommy? I just changed my underpants, cause I just peed in my pants.
Ainsley? Why did you pee in your pants?
BEcause mommy, I just peed in my pants.
But why did you pee in your pants.
(Large, heavy sigh) I just peed in my pants so I need new underpants, but it fine mommy. I got underpants out my dresser and I have new princess underpants now.
(Large, heavy sigh from mommy) Okay, well where did you pee? Did it get on the floor.
(Nodding) I pee in the bafroom, I kweened it up.
Show me...
She leads her mother into the bathroom and points to the small area between the toilet and the bathroom matt.
A bit baffled, her mother asks So you came into the bathroom, stood next to the potty and peed on the floor? Just stood right in this spot and peed?
Yes.
Why would you do that?
(Large, heavy sighs) I tell you mommy, because I pee in my underpants!
Please note that this suspect is extremely skilled in the art of mind games, confusion and psychological warfare.
Parent Enemy #3: Gatsby - the Keyser Söze
Though he doesn't have as many offenses as the other suspects, his one episode makes up for his lack of regularity.
Imagine entering a dimly lit room, Brinkley asleep on the floor, Ainsley asleep on the bed and Gatsby at full attention.
What's wrong buddy?
He's skittish too, his nerves are not the best. Immediately you are aware that he's probably done something wrong. Then you sit on the bed only to feel a slight wetness on your leg. Turning around, you realize too late that there is a massive puddle of urine in the middle of the comforter, pooled in one of the valley's created by Ainsley's legs.
Yes, that is his MO. Wait until no one's looking and then attack with all your might and glory and hope that they blame Brinkley! Because really, do I have proof it was him? No, I don't.
Please note, there is also some suspicion that many of the chewing instances have been at least aided, if not lead by Gatsby.
Parent Enemy #4: Freddie - the up and comer
He's currently planning his big heist, just waiting for his moment.
Really though, because of the cloth diapers, poop and pee are just a part of everyday life. Plus, we couldn't leave him out because he's sure to produce just as much chaos in the next couple of years as his older sister and dogs.
So if you wonder why I'm not always on the ball, not quite at the top of my game, not extremely with it...remember that I'm up to my eyeballs in poop and pee and I am totally plotting my revenge.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
EEL
Ainsley has known how to spell her name for a long time. If you don't believe me, click here.
It's always been the same..."A - I - N - eSSS - eeL - E - Y."
She also puts that little drawl on all words ending -ell and -ill. I'm sure you all remember the "What the Heel!" incident.
Hill = Heil
Hell = Heel
L = eel
And so forth...
So yesterday, we are driving home from daycare and Ainsley is talking...she's always talking and her vocabulary is just growing by leaps and bounds. She uses words like "actually" and "suddenly" these days.
She says Mommy?
Yes Ainsley?
I don't know how to make the "N" in my name. I know how to draw A and baby i, but I don't know how to draw baby n.
I smile and say Well how about when we get home, I'll show you how to write them. How about you just say the letters for me now.
A - I - N - eSSS - L - E - Y
Wait, say it again...
A - I - N - eSSS - L - E - Y
Who told you to say L that way?
No answer, just a blank stare.
Don't you say eeL?
Laughter. Mommy, that is so silly. You don't say eeL you say L. Silly mommy!
Is it wrong for me to want her to keep that little drawl forever? Just one more little thing that slips away as she grows into a little girl. Not sure I'm going to make it to adulthood.
It's always been the same..."A - I - N - eSSS - eeL - E - Y."
She also puts that little drawl on all words ending -ell and -ill. I'm sure you all remember the "What the Heel!" incident.
Hill = Heil
Hell = Heel
L = eel
And so forth...
So yesterday, we are driving home from daycare and Ainsley is talking...she's always talking and her vocabulary is just growing by leaps and bounds. She uses words like "actually" and "suddenly" these days.
She says Mommy?
Yes Ainsley?
I don't know how to make the "N" in my name. I know how to draw A and baby i, but I don't know how to draw baby n.
I smile and say Well how about when we get home, I'll show you how to write them. How about you just say the letters for me now.
A - I - N - eSSS - L - E - Y
Wait, say it again...
A - I - N - eSSS - L - E - Y
Who told you to say L that way?
No answer, just a blank stare.
Don't you say eeL?
Laughter. Mommy, that is so silly. You don't say eeL you say L. Silly mommy!
Is it wrong for me to want her to keep that little drawl forever? Just one more little thing that slips away as she grows into a little girl. Not sure I'm going to make it to adulthood.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Tiny Dancers
We are late.
I so didn't want to be late.
I'm not sure how we ended up late, I really thought I was on time, but something always creeps up.
She will probably be late to most things in life, as long as I'm in charge of getting her there. Most likely this will result in many arguments during the teenage years, but right now she lives in a world where time doesn't exist and she smiles happily from her carseat, excited about what's in store.
We've been talking about it for weeks, her first dance class, and to say she is thrilled is an understatement.
I whip into the parking spot quicker than I should and Ainsley says Whoa mommy! from the back seat.
We rush inside, where the tiny dancers are already filing into the studio. I hurriedly buckle Ainsley's little tap shoes and pull off her yoga pants. She is pulled off by the teacher before I have a chance to wish her good luck.
I make my way to the crowded one way viewing window. I don't want to be rude, but I also want to be where I can see and yes, take pictures. So I slowly and strategically make my way to the front.
At first, they are all sitting in a circle on the floor. From their muffled voices I think they are introducing themselves to one another.
Soon the teacher and assistants are putting them in three lines. Ainsley, being tall for her age, ends up in the back. As the teacher begins giving simple directions that highlight the differences between left and right, heel and toe, I am watching Ainsley like a hawk and suddenly I realize that I have entered a new phase of motherhood.
Fear.
Not fear that something will happen to her, not fear that I won't be the mother they deserve...but fear that she will have her feelings hurt. And that breaks my heart. What if she's not good enough? What if she can't keep up? What if she's embarrassed? She's so tiny and frail looking in the body hugging leotard and pink tights. Although I can't hear everything that's being said, I can tell by the way she stands that she is nervous and timid. She is not the normal energetic, full of confidence, little girl that we all know and love. I am worried that her little ego will not be able to handle rejection or failure. Then I try and remind myself that this is a 3-4 year old tap/ballet class and most likely she won't be auditioning for anything anytime soon. But my fear is more about what lies ahead. School is just around the corner and that means new friends and new activities...but it also means little girls who are not friends and activities that she will not be good at. I worry about how I will console her when the heavier bumps in life send her stumbling.
She is not following along with the teacher at all. She forgets to put her hands on her hips. She's not quite getting the whole left - right thing. But as the hour comes to a close, I do notice her understanding a bit more and doing as she's told. She always listens - to other people, that is.
The teacher tells them goodbye and they all file out of the studio to go get measured for the costumes they'll wear in the summer recital.
As she passes me she is beaming, her head held high and that confident glow shooting out of her eyes again.
Mommy!! Mommy, did you see me!! I am a drate (great) dancer!
I so didn't want to be late.
I'm not sure how we ended up late, I really thought I was on time, but something always creeps up.
She will probably be late to most things in life, as long as I'm in charge of getting her there. Most likely this will result in many arguments during the teenage years, but right now she lives in a world where time doesn't exist and she smiles happily from her carseat, excited about what's in store.
We've been talking about it for weeks, her first dance class, and to say she is thrilled is an understatement.
I whip into the parking spot quicker than I should and Ainsley says Whoa mommy! from the back seat.
We rush inside, where the tiny dancers are already filing into the studio. I hurriedly buckle Ainsley's little tap shoes and pull off her yoga pants. She is pulled off by the teacher before I have a chance to wish her good luck.
I make my way to the crowded one way viewing window. I don't want to be rude, but I also want to be where I can see and yes, take pictures. So I slowly and strategically make my way to the front.
At first, they are all sitting in a circle on the floor. From their muffled voices I think they are introducing themselves to one another.
Soon the teacher and assistants are putting them in three lines. Ainsley, being tall for her age, ends up in the back. As the teacher begins giving simple directions that highlight the differences between left and right, heel and toe, I am watching Ainsley like a hawk and suddenly I realize that I have entered a new phase of motherhood.
Fear.
Not fear that something will happen to her, not fear that I won't be the mother they deserve...but fear that she will have her feelings hurt. And that breaks my heart. What if she's not good enough? What if she can't keep up? What if she's embarrassed? She's so tiny and frail looking in the body hugging leotard and pink tights. Although I can't hear everything that's being said, I can tell by the way she stands that she is nervous and timid. She is not the normal energetic, full of confidence, little girl that we all know and love. I am worried that her little ego will not be able to handle rejection or failure. Then I try and remind myself that this is a 3-4 year old tap/ballet class and most likely she won't be auditioning for anything anytime soon. But my fear is more about what lies ahead. School is just around the corner and that means new friends and new activities...but it also means little girls who are not friends and activities that she will not be good at. I worry about how I will console her when the heavier bumps in life send her stumbling.
She is not following along with the teacher at all. She forgets to put her hands on her hips. She's not quite getting the whole left - right thing. But as the hour comes to a close, I do notice her understanding a bit more and doing as she's told. She always listens - to other people, that is.
The teacher tells them goodbye and they all file out of the studio to go get measured for the costumes they'll wear in the summer recital.
As she passes me she is beaming, her head held high and that confident glow shooting out of her eyes again.
Mommy!! Mommy, did you see me!! I am a drate (great) dancer!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
The New Girl
As I walked back to my desk I could hear my cell phone ringing. I dug it out of my purse just in time to see the "missed call" alert flash on the screen.
My desk phone began ringing and I recognized the number...Clif.
Hello?
Hey, it's me. Daycare just called. Freddie has a fever.
And just like that it happened. The thing I had been stressing over and worrying about was real and happening. Three weeks into a brand new job and I would need to leave early and take the following day off. I knew it was coming. Freddie's cough had started Sunday morning and had only gotten worse. Last night, in my semi conscious state, I thought he may have been warm.
This morning I had battled over what to do. Even without the fever, the cough and his clinginess were enough to keep him home...take him to a doctor. The fever only confirmed what I knew. And if I were in Richmond, I knew exactly what I should have done. I should have called into work and taken him to his pediatrician as soon as they opened. But we aren't in Richmond. Which means I haven't been at my new job long enough to accrue leave and we have no pediatrician. I haven't found one yet, partially because I've been too busy with other things and maybe mostly because I love our Richmond Pediatrician so much that I can't bear the thought of taking them somewhere else.
I gathered my things and apologized to my new boss. Getting out of DC to my sick child is not like leaving Richmond. In Richmond, I could be to the kids in less than 15 minutes. Not so here. We chose a daycare closer to my in-laws, mostly due to financial reasons. I wish that weren't what we had to base so many decisions on...where to live, where to work, where to send our kids. I wish money weren't such a deciding factor. So because the daycare is closer to the house and because I park 1/4 of a mile from my office (also a financial decision), it's almost an hour before I arrive.
It's 4:30 when I buckle the kids in and get back in the car, headed for...well, I'm not sure where. Clif and I had discussed just going to an urgent care. It could cost us a bundle, but how in the world could I possibly get in to see a pediatrician that I had never seen before so close to closing time? So I head for the closest urgent care.
I unload the kids and drag them inside. Freddie is miserable. They take one look at us and say "We don't see children under 5."
This is where I come dangerously close to loosing my mind and telling the woman behind the counter exactly what I think of her medical facility. My mind starts racing and I don't know what to do. There's a part of me that wants to get in the car and drive to Richmond and never come back.
I take a deep breath and ask them if they know of any pediatric facilities near by. They give me a number to a pediatrician's office...but now it's 4:50. So I strap the kids back in the car and call the insurance company. She was very nice, but she can't tell me if a place takes kids or not.
So I just start calling, because honestly, I haven't been to an urgent care facility since I was in high school and I have no idea if any of them take infants. Luckily, the first one I call does, and they're right around the corner from Kip and Denise's house.
So after a missed exit on the beltway, 5 o'clock traffic and my wallet forgotten in the car we are finally waiting to see a doctor. It's an ear infection. His first. Ainsley had had 4 or 5 by this age.
And that was that. We filled the prescription, got pizza and made it home by 9.
So the thing I had been stressing over and dreading happened and I made it through. I can't tell you how many times moving back to Richmond went through my head. I felt so completely lost and Richmond is just so comfortable. I know what to do, I know where to go. I don't have that confidence here. I'm always worried I'm doing something wrong...at my job, during my commute, with the kids...but I figured it out.
It kind of turned a bad day into a better day. So maybe this whole move will not beat me, maybe I'll still come out on top. For the last three weeks I have not felt that way, I've felt the exact opposite. I guess that's how it happens, little victory by little accomplishment until you forget that you were once the new girl. I just hate being the new girl.
My desk phone began ringing and I recognized the number...Clif.
Hello?
Hey, it's me. Daycare just called. Freddie has a fever.
And just like that it happened. The thing I had been stressing over and worrying about was real and happening. Three weeks into a brand new job and I would need to leave early and take the following day off. I knew it was coming. Freddie's cough had started Sunday morning and had only gotten worse. Last night, in my semi conscious state, I thought he may have been warm.
This morning I had battled over what to do. Even without the fever, the cough and his clinginess were enough to keep him home...take him to a doctor. The fever only confirmed what I knew. And if I were in Richmond, I knew exactly what I should have done. I should have called into work and taken him to his pediatrician as soon as they opened. But we aren't in Richmond. Which means I haven't been at my new job long enough to accrue leave and we have no pediatrician. I haven't found one yet, partially because I've been too busy with other things and maybe mostly because I love our Richmond Pediatrician so much that I can't bear the thought of taking them somewhere else.
I gathered my things and apologized to my new boss. Getting out of DC to my sick child is not like leaving Richmond. In Richmond, I could be to the kids in less than 15 minutes. Not so here. We chose a daycare closer to my in-laws, mostly due to financial reasons. I wish that weren't what we had to base so many decisions on...where to live, where to work, where to send our kids. I wish money weren't such a deciding factor. So because the daycare is closer to the house and because I park 1/4 of a mile from my office (also a financial decision), it's almost an hour before I arrive.
It's 4:30 when I buckle the kids in and get back in the car, headed for...well, I'm not sure where. Clif and I had discussed just going to an urgent care. It could cost us a bundle, but how in the world could I possibly get in to see a pediatrician that I had never seen before so close to closing time? So I head for the closest urgent care.
I unload the kids and drag them inside. Freddie is miserable. They take one look at us and say "We don't see children under 5."
This is where I come dangerously close to loosing my mind and telling the woman behind the counter exactly what I think of her medical facility. My mind starts racing and I don't know what to do. There's a part of me that wants to get in the car and drive to Richmond and never come back.
I take a deep breath and ask them if they know of any pediatric facilities near by. They give me a number to a pediatrician's office...but now it's 4:50. So I strap the kids back in the car and call the insurance company. She was very nice, but she can't tell me if a place takes kids or not.
So I just start calling, because honestly, I haven't been to an urgent care facility since I was in high school and I have no idea if any of them take infants. Luckily, the first one I call does, and they're right around the corner from Kip and Denise's house.
So after a missed exit on the beltway, 5 o'clock traffic and my wallet forgotten in the car we are finally waiting to see a doctor. It's an ear infection. His first. Ainsley had had 4 or 5 by this age.
And that was that. We filled the prescription, got pizza and made it home by 9.
So the thing I had been stressing over and dreading happened and I made it through. I can't tell you how many times moving back to Richmond went through my head. I felt so completely lost and Richmond is just so comfortable. I know what to do, I know where to go. I don't have that confidence here. I'm always worried I'm doing something wrong...at my job, during my commute, with the kids...but I figured it out.
It kind of turned a bad day into a better day. So maybe this whole move will not beat me, maybe I'll still come out on top. For the last three weeks I have not felt that way, I've felt the exact opposite. I guess that's how it happens, little victory by little accomplishment until you forget that you were once the new girl. I just hate being the new girl.
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